Gamer's Syndrome!
by SailorCheesy
Summary: America just went to apologize to England. So when he finds himself pinning the Brit to his bed, he is more than a little surprised. A one-shot based off the doujinshi "Gamer's Syndrome!" Instead with an alternate ending, though! T because I can.


"I already said I was sorry, alright? You're being so pig headed, England!" America exclaims, his iPhone pressed to his ear. He is sitting criss-cross-applesauce on his bed, wearing a pair of navy blue jeans and a hoodie with the words "I heart USA" on it. "I didn't meant to, I was busy! It totally slipped my mind. I'm still busy right now, so..."

_"Oh, really? You said you're busy until your day off... Has work suddenly come up?"_

"Nah, a game." America says honestly.

Big mistake.

_"FINE! I HOPE YOU AND YOUR GAME WILL BE HAPPY TOGETHER, IDIOT! I'LL NEVER FORGIVE YOU FOR THIS!"_ England screams, then slams the phone shut, huffing and puffing angrily.

* * *

Two days later, America is wondering how he got himself into such a mess... Himself on top of England, his hands gripped tightly around the others' wrists, pinning him to a small bed...

England is blushing furiously. His jaw works, though he can't form any words. Would this finally be the day America would become his...?

_Oh_, America thinks, _That's right..._

**_Ten minutes ago: _**

"Amerique, I am taking your games away until you apologize to Angleterre properly. We are all staying at the same hotel, so now's your chance. Just... Go in there, and ask for forgiveness." A blonde-haired Frenchman says, scooping all of the games the American had brought for the trip off the floor.

"Easy for you to say," America grumbles, standing up, "But I'm there hero, and I should apologize... I do feel bad..." With that, he walks out of the room, down the hall, and knocks on England's door.

After a minute, it opens. England's bored expression quickly turns to one of hatred at the sight of the nervous American in front of him.

"_What_?" He asks darkly.

_...Woah, he's pissed... _America thinks.

"U-Um, if this was a game, I'd have choices, and it would be easy to patch things up. This would make a good game, I think. Anyway, I would like to have a word with you about the other day." America says in an airy voice, one hand on the back of his head, the other waving slightly, a smile on his face.

* * *

**Meanwhile, with France: **

"Hmmm... It seems as though I can control Amerique with this... Maybe I'll just help them take a step further in their relationship?" France says to himself, staring at the controller in his hand and America and England on the screen. He had just wanted to try out a game he had taken away from America... Especially this one, because it had never been opened, meaning he could start his own game instead of continuing one of America's.

"Onhonhon~" This was going to be fun.

* * *

**Back to America and England, about ten minutes ago: **

_Wait a minute, I didn't say anything! _America thinks.

"But I'd really prefer to talk somewhere else... May I come into your room? Or, if you don't want to, we could go somewhere else?" America asks politely.

_Huh? What's going on? I haven't said anything yet! Why is my mouth moving? _

"...Get in here."England says.

"Okay, thanks!" America exclaims cheerfully, bounding into the room.

America sits on the bed, his body seemingly functioning for itself again. He puts his hand son his knees, his entire body trembling with fear. _What was that earlier? I was talking but... I wasn't. Could it be a host? _

"Hey, didn't you have something you wanted to talk to me about?" England asks, standing in front of the American with his arms folded over his chest.

"Ah—Yeah!" America says, again in a cheerful voice that doesn't belong to him. "I think France told you already, but I'm really sorry for missing our meeting again!" America begins to shake again. _It's happening again... Why is my mouth moving again?! _"I'm sorry I did something to hurt you."

"Well, I'm used to it by now. It doesn't matter." England says, sitting down on the bed a few inches from the American, his many brows furrowed. "If you were that sorry, you shouldn't have done it in the first place."

England glances at the American out of the corner of his eye, which immediately widens, along with the other one, at the sight of the American. His hands are clutching desperately to his black pants, his head is hung low, and he's shaking as if he's been sitting in a blizzard for hours. England wonders if he really looked _that_ mad.

"Hey, why are you shaking?" He asks worriedly, placing a hand on the American's shoulder. He's practically _vibrating._

"I-It's nothing! I j-just remembered, actually, that I have something r-really important to do!" America jumps up, still shaking, and takes a step toward the door. Over his shoulder he adds "T-this talk will h-have to wait until another t-time."

Suddenly, though, America whips around, finding himself face-to-face with England, whose bright green eyes widen questioningly.

"England!" America shouts, throwing himself into the Brit's arms, sending them both flying backwards onto the bed.

_What's going on with me?!_

"AH! HEY! You surprised me!" England says, his eyes wide. Though, he's not too mad anymore... How can he be mad when the one he loves is holding him so tightly?

"I already said it, but I'm sorry about last night! Please, forgive me!" America exclaims in the faux voice.

"F-Fine! Just..."

"You're still angry! I'm not letting go until you really forgive me!" America says.

_No! This is so awkward! What if something happens?! _

"I-I forgive you!"

"Really?"

"Really!"

"Oh... Thank goodness." America says, pushing himself up, holding tightly onto the Brit's wrists, pinning the shorter to the bed.

"Y-You're acting really strange today..." England says, his face red as he stares up at the American.

_Yes! He noticed! _

"How am I being weird?" America asks.

"Ah... I can't really place my finger on it, but you're more polite, I guess... Less loud... You seem a little nicer."

_...So my real self is antagonistic, huh? _

"Be honest, Arthur, do you hate me?" America asks.

_Oh, this cannot be happening. England has to realize I'm not in my right mind! AHHHH! _

"I-I don't hate you!" England says.

"Then you love me?" America asks.

England's eyes widen, and he feels the heat rushing to his face. "If you're teasing me, I'm going to be so mad!" He yells defensively, every cell in his body alive and squirming under America's intense gaze. Could this be America's way of confessing?

"I'm not teasing. I'd be happy, if you loved me." America says, a thoughtful smile on his face.

_Don't fall for it, England! This isn't me! Why are you blushing?! Can't you see this isn't me?!_

"If I tell you how I feel, will you do the same?" America asks in a suave voice, dipping his head closer England's. "You said before that I was being strange... But honestly, these are my true feelings. I want to know how you really feel, too." America says, moving even closer.

Finally, he's so close, their noses are touching...

**Present: **

_NO, NO, NO! England, don't fall for it! _America's mind screams.

England, wide-eyed, blinks. "I-I... Do you really want to know?"

_NO! DON'T SAY ANYTHING! THIS ISN'T ME! DON'T TELL ME YOU HATE ME, I DON'T WANT TO HEAR IT! I don't want to hear that you don't like me... _

"W-Well... The truth is... I..." England swallows thickly, gazing intently into the American's eyes. "Alfred... I've been in love with you since your twenty first birthday!"

England thinks back to that day, as he had done so many other nights when he was trying to decipher his feelings for the American.

_He had planned on surprising his little boy with some fireworks for his birthday, after having not seen him for over ten years, England wanted it to be special._

_But then, when America walked into the kitchen of England's house in just a pair of shorts and a tank top, running a hand through his silky blonde hair, his blue eyes only half-open, his glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose—when had he gotten glasses?—his lightly tanned skin glinting in the morning sun... He was so tall... He had at least four inches on England now... And he was so handsome... How could England's little boy have grown up so fast? And to be so... so... so attractive, even when he wasn't awake? _

_The young man yawns, stretching his arms above his head, he walks over to the counter, his eyes closed, and up onto it, leaning back against the wooden cupboards. _

_"Today's my birthday~ I wonder what Francais will bring me?" America wonders aloud._

_"A-Alfred?!" England exclaimed in disbelief, staring at the young man in front of him, his mouth agape._

_"ARTIE!" Alfred cries, opening his eyes and launching himself forward into the British man's arms, sending them both backwards onto the coffee table. England had been on his back, pressed against the coffee table, the America on top of him. Not unlike to the position they were in now..._

_"You grew up..." England breathed. _

_"Haha, yeah!" America had said, straightening himself out, "Look, I'm taller than you now!"_ _America had laughed, taking England's hand in his happily._ _The Brit's heartbeat had accelerated the second they touched, and his face had turned radish red..._

"Y-Y-You do? You have?" America asks, his voice apparently returning to himself again.

"...Yes, I have."

"I... I feel the same way, Iggy."

"You do?"

"Yes, I do." America says, his voice firm.

England smiles and closes his eyes, leaving America t wonder exactly what had happened to him, and to thank whoever did it for the outcome.


End file.
